


Orange Concentrate

by teapotbot



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-14 23:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1282807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teapotbot/pseuds/teapotbot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek gets distracted watching Stiles peel an orange. It's early and he hasn't had his pineapple juice yet, leave him alone Scott.<br/>PLES TOLD ME TO POST IT!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orange Concentrate

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote a dumb drabble. Because I got an idea from eating an orange. I don't even know okay… PLES TOLD ME TO DO IT!  
> It's cute and that's all that matters apparently. So enjoy…or something. Also please dismiss my awful titling skills.  
> It's stupid and cute and Scott is the smart one. Also werewolves apparently prefer pineapple juice first thing in the morning. I don't even know, just go with it, okay?  
> Ples proof'd for me, cos she is my numero uno Teen Wolf proofer, and if there are still mistakes it's all my fault.

Derek woke up and for a minute couldn’t figure out why. His alarm wasn’t set, because it was his day off and he could actually sleep in. Then he heard the muted sound of voices and heartbeats. Scott and Stiles were certainly up early for a weekend.

When Derek walked into the kitchen Stiles was standing at the kitchen island leaning forward on his elbows. Scott was sitting on a barstool across from him and having a conversation with Isaac and Allison on speakerphone.  
“Hey Derek!” Isaac chirped, sounding tinny over the phone.  
“Isaac,” Derek returned. “Allison.”  
“Hi!” Allison said brightly.  
Whatever conversation they’d been having was interrupted for a moment while Derek and Allison talked. It wasn’t until he stepped back from the island, towards the fridge and, hopefully, a still full bottle of pineapple juice, that Derek even noticed something felt off. He tried to figure out what it was while he was getting a glass from the dishrack.  
His eyebrows knitted together when he frowned, concentrating on the scents filling the room. That’s where things felt different to him. When he went back to the island, he sat next to Scott and tried to pick up the conversation without really adding any input. He wasn’t awake enough to think yet and still hadn’t figured out what was off.  
Stiles was rolling an orange between his hands. He picked the dried up nub of stem that was still attached off and flicked it at Scott, who batted it away like it was something they’d done countless times. Then he made five cuts through the peel starting at the middle of the indent where the stem had been, and was carefully pulling the peel away in wide strips, dropping them on one side of a paper towel sitting on the counter between his elbows.  
It was after Stiles had pulled the last of the peel off and was rubbing the white that had been left behind that it hit Derek. Stiles wasn’t flailing around. He was completely still except for his hands working the orange. And he smelled… content. No, relaxed, really relaxed. Derek wasn’t sure he’d ever smelled that off him. He watched as Stiles scraped his blunt fingernails over the naked orange, determined to rid it of as much of its pith as he could. Derek couldn’t take his eyes off the way Stiles' long fingers moved. He was peeling an orange, but not in any way Derek had ever seen it done before. Once he was satisfied he wasn’t going to get anything else off it, he gently pulled the orange's segments apart, setting them on the clean half of his paper towel. He picked at the edge of one segment, breaking open the thin membrane and peeling it back, dropping it on top of the discarded peel along with any pips he found. When he finished with one segment, he sat it down, picked up another, and repeated the process. Derek had completely lost track of the conversation with Isaac and Allison, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Watching how quietly meticulous, methodical even, Stiles was about peeling an orange was fascinating compared to his usual loudness and inability to control his limbs.  
When he’d finished the last one, Stiles broke the segments into pieces, popping them one at a time into his mouth.  
He was watching Stiles drag the heel of his hand up his chin, wiping away a line of juice that had escaped his mouth, when Scott punched him lightly in the arm and nearly knocked him off his bar stool. Derek felt his ears heat up, and probably turn pink, as he tore his gaze away from Stiles to glare at Scott. “What?”  
“Dude, were you even listening?” Scott asked. “Or were you too caught up on Stiles tongue to pay attention?”  
They both turned when Stiles made a choking sound from the other side of the island. “Wh-What?!” he sputtered, a blush crawling up his neck into his face.  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Derek deadpanned, turning his attention to the window and taking a sip of his juice.  
“Uh-huh.” Scott rolled his eyes. “Okay.”


End file.
